


Welcome to Storybrooke

by D_Willims



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Willims/pseuds/D_Willims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles/one-shots about Storybrooke.</p><p>Latest: <i>The Nature of Things</i>. Mary Margaret and the aftermath.</p><p><i>I Have No Story to be Told</i>. Henry is Emma's story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nights in the Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Once Upon a Time_ universe.
> 
>  **Characters:** Belle  
>  **Relationships:** past Belle x Rumpelstiltskin  
>  **Rating:** K  
>  **Summary:** Belle's first night in the library.  
>  **Prompt:** #028 "Top Five (Characters)" for The Aviary  
>  **Word Count:** 585

It's late when Belle gets back to the library, long past closing at Granny's Dinner. Ruby had been kind not to kick her out earlier.

The library is dark and cold. And, though Belle is surrounded by the books that have always kept her company, she finds it lonely. It wasn't been cared for in quite some time, that's all. She thinks that, with a bit of love, it will be bright and warm again.

But not tonight.

Tonight she wanders aimlessly through the shelves. She lets her fingers trail through the dust on the spines, tracing the letters of the titles. Until she stumbles into the fiction section.

Almost automatically, she reaches for one of the adventurous romances she loved so much. The titles are different here, but she still recognizes them. It's the story of a dashing prince that battles his way through the kingdom until he’s saved the princess. Then they ride off into the sunset. It's always a happy ending. 

When she was a little more naive, she remembers, she wanted to be like those princes. She wanted adventure. It would be her that would be the hero of the story.

He was the one that had battled to save her. But it couldn't be a happy ending. Not really. Because he never listened to her, he never cared about her the way she cared about him. And she'd walked away.

Her hand stops itself. The book is tipped on its spine, tilting precariously. It would be easy to let it fall. All she had to do was let go. Forget about it.

Quietly, she slips the book back into place. She saves that story for another day.

Quickly, she turns on her heel and walks away. Belle makes her way back towards a section she saw earlier, a how-to section. It's a long shot, of course, but she imagines that, if this world really came from hers, the book exists in some form.

Half buried in the section, she finds what she's looking for. It's not perfect, of course. There's no substitute for a real teacher. But it looks like a decent enough guide to give her a good start, at least. Belle won't look like a fool when she goes looking for a teacher.

Clutching the book to her chest, Belle makes her way up the stairs to the small apartment at the top of the building. She turns on all the lights, flooding the room with brightness and warmth. Then she sits on the edge of the little bed, folding her legs up under her. The book lays open on her lap as she studies the first chapter intently.

When she's sure she's got a good grasp on it, she stands again. There isn't much furniture, but she moves it to clear a wide space on the floor. She draws the curtains closed. It seems like the kind of thing that should be kept secret somehow.

Belle picks up a ruler that had been left in the little desk, grasping it with both hands. It's not perfect either, but it will work for now. She starts to go through the motions, following the diagrams in the book as best she can. At first, it's stiff and awkward. But she works through the night, repeating the motions over and over again, stopping only to reexamine the book.

By the morning, it starts to feel natural. She starts to feel comfortable in her own skin again.

She didn't need him.


	2. The Nature of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Once Upon a Time_ universe.
> 
>  **Characters:** Mary Margaret, Emma  
>  **Relationships:** faint David x Mary Margaret  
>  **Rating:** T  
>  **Summary:** Mary Margaret and the aftermath.  
>  **Prompt:** #028 "Top Five (Characters)" for The Aviary  
>  **Word Count:** 756

Henry is blissfully asleep. There's exactly enough room for Emma to fit on the tiny bed. The two of them are forced to share, for now, because the loft is just too small.

They need to move into a bigger house, if all four of them are going to stay together. Or, even if they're not. Henry deserves his own room, one with an actual door. And a big backyard, with a white picket fence and room for a dog to run.

But, David isn't ready, yet. He still thinks they can go back.

There isn't anything to go back to, Mary Margaret keeps telling him. She ought to know, she had been there. The curse has utterly devastated anything that resembles home. It’s not gone, exactly, but it’s not there, either.

Whatever is still there tainted her, Mary Margaret thinks.

Mary Margaret sits on the very edge of the mattress. Gingerly, she reaches out and smoothes the edges of the blankets around Henry. She’s very carefully, though, not to touch him.

Evil spreads too easily, she knows. It just takes one little touch.

Their voices rumble through the floorboards, a painful reminder for Mary Margaret. They're angry, arguing with one another. They're angry at her, at each other. Maybe even a little at Cora.

She rather hopes they were angry at Cora. Though, Mary Margaret supposes, that it's entirely unfair to blame anyone for their own death--even someone as distasteful as Cora. It's not as if Cora had been the one who held the candle over her own heart.

No, that had been all Mary Margaret. That dark part of her that had been born in the twisted remains of her former home.

The part of her that no longer gets a say. She neither gets to defend nor condemn herself. Honestly, she isn't sure if she would be able to speak, even if they gave her a chance.

A heavy sense of dread and melancholy settles in her stomach as Mary Margaret stretches out along the edge of the mattress. She sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth.

With her ear pressed against the pillow, she can better her family arguing. Mary Margaret is grateful that Henry has managed to sleep through it. That he had gone to the diner with Ruby during the fight. He's still unburned with this dark stain on their family. At least, for now.

If only she could sleep as easily. Maybe then she could wake from this nightmare. She closes her eyes in a vain attempt to pretend that could happen.

It doesn't.

Instead, it just sort of sputters out like the last dying embers of a candle. Everyone is exhausted, and the argument has circled back a dozen times over with no one yielding ground. There's nothing more than can be said, Mary Margaret supposes, so they all just stop talking.

Heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs.

For one wild moment, Mary Margaret thinks it might be David. That he's forgiven her and has come to sweep her away to their own bed. She thinks that it might be okay, then. As long as he’s forgiven her.

But it's Emma standing over them when Mary Margaret when she opens her eyes. She's nudging Mary Margaret closer to the wall, closer to Henry. The bed can barely fit two of them, much less three, but Emma is bound and determined to make them all fit.

Somehow, it ends with Henry snuggled in close to Mary Margaret. It's encouraging to see that he doesn't immediately start turning into the Dark One. Still, she’s not entirely sure that she's untouched by the spread of evil.

After all, with Mr. Gold as his other grandfather, it was up to Mary Margaret to be extra good. And she had, ultimately, failed.

Emma's strong arm fell heavily over Mary Margaret and Henry, holding them tightly.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered. It somehow startled Mary Margaret. "It should have been me; I should have been the one to take out Cora."

There was something that is at once painful and powerful in Emma's casual willingness to murder Cora. She wasn't worried about the blood on her hands, or the stain of evil. Emma had stood up, sword in hand, ready to strike down Cora. Mary Margaret wished could be that brave.

"“Thank you, though," Emma whispered, breaking the silence again. "For saving my son."

The pain in her chest doesn’t go away, but Mary Margaret thinks it lessens just a little.


	3. I Have No Story to be Told

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Once Upon a Time_ universe.
> 
> **Characters:** Emma  
>  **Rating:** K  
>  **Summary:** Henry is Emma's story.  
>  **Prompt:** #028 "Top Five (Characters)" for The Aviary  
>  **Word Count:** 235

At times, it struck Emma as particularly strange just how unextraordinary her life was. She had been thrust into this world where everyone has a story. Tales of romance, of magic and myth, of great battles that shaped all the people around her. It's the sort of stories people tell and retell.

Emma doesn't have that.

Before Henry was born, Emma had just been a lost, heartbroken kid who had made a series of really stupid decisions. The only thing remarkable about her story was just how many painfully common this story was.

For all that one social worker had talked about her prison stay being a chance to turn her life around, Emma's life didn't really change then. She had been a little more lost and little more heartbroken. Her decisions had, perhaps, been a little less stupid. But all in all, nothing had really changed.

Then Henry somehow found his way back into her life.

Henry had, more or less, uprooted Emma's life and grounded her in this new story. The story, she found later, had already been written for her which was, in its own way, as strange as not having a real story. Perhaps it was only strange because Emma, unlike Henry, wasn’t entirely sure that she was the chosen one. She was still fairly certain that this was just a red herring set up by Gold to suit his ends.

Still, if her story only ever began and ended with Henry, Emma thought she could be satisfied with that.


End file.
